


Nighttime Comforts

by HellsPurestDevil, Ohheyerin



Series: History Rewritten AU [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Blood, Drowning, Fluff, Nightmare, Sleep Deprivation, Snuggling, Thomas being nice, oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsPurestDevil/pseuds/HellsPurestDevil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohheyerin/pseuds/Ohheyerin
Summary: The nightmares hit Philip in waves every night—they flocked to his mind and ravaged his sleep. They turned something restful and rejuvenating into a hell, and took his peace of mind. They reminded him of things he would rather forget.......PRE-WAR





	Nighttime Comforts

The nightmares hit Philip in waves every night—they flocked to his mind and ravaged his sleep. They turned something restful and rejuvenating into a hell, and took his peace of mind. They reminded him of things he would rather forget, put images in his head he wished he could unsee, made him hear the sounds of pain and hopelessness and despair. Every night, he relived the slaughter at the river and death of his parents, and suffered through the ordeal again over and over, his mind in permanent pain, wondering where the release was.

Every night, he suffered. His dreams had always been very vivid, and lately he was more afraid of them then he had ever been. He rarely had out-and-out nightmares, but more and more often lately they were ominous, giving him the feeling that no one in them was exactly as they seemed, and that the normal world had skewed into a place where hell had cracked open and all the demons laid in wait in his mind, waiting for a moment of vulnerability when they could strike.

The dreams themselves were all the same. Terrible, horrible nightmares in which Papa and Mama died over and over. Sometimes they would be together, pale, like the belly of dead fish. Their faces bloated, water from their mouths on constant flow. But that had been impossible because he knew they did not die in the river. He was there, they didn't die at the river he knew that but yet..

Sometimes it would just be his Papa that would show up, his Shirt torn open, infection ravaging his body, bloating his abdomen, turning it a sickly green bruised color, how strange it was that even in his dreams he could eventually smell the sickly sweet odor of decay as his papas flesh turned necrotic. Eyes like bloodshot catseye marbles, He would rant and rave how he wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for him and how Philip had failed to keep his promise in keeping his mother safe for him.

Sometimes Mama would show up. When she would show up in his dreams, she would look fairly normal, not a wound to be seen on her, and yet that unnerved him more then anything because he knew deep down she was dead. She was dead but didn't look it. She would smile at him, a smile that unnerved him and there wasn't a wound on her, yet her face was a glittering mask of blood that was black in the heartless white glow of the moonlight, the mask of a crushed insect. He would hug her and apologize that he left her behind and she then would scream a high pitched wail, like a teapot, and shrink against him. Then there would be a loud noise, like thunder and then her face would break apart, letting through a horde of grave beetles from the splitting yellow parchment fissures and he would scream until blackness wavered.

The beetles would crawl all over him, fly around him, digging little holes into his body to nest in and the beetles.....no they weren't beetles they were **BULLETS**. It was bullets flying around him **HUNDREDS** of gray bullets digging little holes in his body like insects looking for Shelter.

Then all he would remember hearing was confused shouting, the slap of shoe-leather against harsh stone as people ran in all direction. Then there would be another crack of thunder, he would feel pain, then the sound of splashing as his pockmarked body fell into the rushing river.....

Then he would wake up in a cold sweat, hoping he didn't scream and wake the adults. He never did, it was the only upside to the Nightmares, his screams were always low enough to not disturb anyone in the house.

The adults tried to help him. They noticed the tired look in his eyes almost immediately, the look stemming from the fact most nights he often resided to refuse sleep at all. A unhealthy thing for such a young person to do. At first, they'd hoped that talking about his dreams might alleviate him of the nightmares. But no matter what they did or how hard they pressed, he often refused to accept their help, politely declining. It was absolutely horrible to watch the boy decline, and it pained them everyday when they had to see him in the morning—ashen faced and quiet and distant. And as more and more nearly sleepless nights piled on top of him, the dark circles became more prominent. He looked tired, and began to act a little run down. And no one could do nothing. They felt miserable, watching him become a little more worn every day, and knowing that he would crack eventually, but not knowing how to stop it.

But he never cracked. And they all begun to get curious as to why.

Turns out Philip had found a sleeping remedy. As obtuse as it was.

If people had paid as much attention to Philip himself as they did to his wellbeing, They would have picked up that Philip was an observer of sorts. He liked to watch people from a distance, see how they interacted with different people and things before debating with himself whether or not engaging in any social interaction or whatever was needed was necessary. But since no one picked up on this trait, they failed to realize the boys sudden obsession with learning every one of James Madison's Movements.

They were easy to pick up, Philip had noticed. Madison as it turned out, was a creature of habit. He liked to follow a certain set of patterns throughout the day. But his day schedule was of little Importance to Philip.

It was his night schedule that was.

When He had started spying on Madison's nightly routines he had found it to be pretty simple as well. While he didn't see much since they always kept the door closed whenever they went off to bed (he had the lucky break of having his guest room opposite wall of theirs), Philip had found that Madison wasn't really a fan of sleeping much. Which meant good news for him.

While Jefferson was the one that slept almost immediately and as quickly as his head hit the pillow, Madison around the same time every night would leave the room, calmly and quietly shut the door behind him and tiptoe his way down the stairs to work. And when he was done, which was normally around the time the sun began to rise. He would then slip back in the room and catch some Z's before the day started.

Apparently he didn't need much sleep. When Philip began timing Madison's schedule he found his timing to be very direct. He and Jefferson would head to bed around 8 and 9 respectively. Then around 11 to 12 midnight Madison would leave the room to go downstairs into the study. Then around 6-7 he would come up, sleep and then the cycle would continue.

It was around a week ago when Philip began to take advantage of that six to seven hour period when Madison wasn't in the room. He had started timing himself on Madison's night schedule and whenever Madison left the room, and Philip found himself unable to sleep, he would sneak in and snuggle up to Jefferson. He would rest then wake up and leave shortly before Madison returned and noticed something was up.

Philip didn't know why he did it admittedly, why he found comfort by doing this. He knew Jefferson didn't like him all that much (so he thought). But the first day he did it he had found himself able to sleep, without having to worry about any nightmares (he did however almost get caught). But even so it was hard to explain to himself why out of every person who currently took up residence in this house how it was Jefferson who had been his source of comfort.

Philip had excused it by saying that it didn't make a lick of difference who it was. He did it with Jefferson cause Jefferson was closest to his room. Literally on the other end of the wall. If any of the others were as close then they too would be made his shield against the terrors that plagued his dreams every night. He also tried to convince himself it was because he was desperate for at least one night of good sleep a week even if the sleep was brief.

If there was one thing this war had taught him, it was desperate times called for desperate measures. Even if that desperate measure was in the form of a man who you were pretty sure didn't like you one bit.

This routine went on for almost a few days, Philip would have a nightmare, Madison would leave, Philip would sneak in, catch some Z's then wake up before Madison returned and sneak back into his own room without being caught. It was a simple routine, no one knew he did it, he kept it a secret for obvious reasons. But even he didn't realize how quickly routines could change in a instant. Which was what happened to him one night.

His nightmare had dragged on for much longer then he had thought. When he awoke drenched in sweat and trembling under his blankets, it was already four o'clock in the morning

And it was Raining.

A blinding flash of light threw shadows against the walls of the small bedroom. Mere seconds later, a monstrous boom shook the house and rattled the windows. Millions of drops of water pounded on the sidewalk and house, creating the sound of thousands of tiny footsteps dancing on the roof. The young boy cowered under his bedspread. The thunder was too loud. The lightning was so bright. The windows screamed as the rain hit them.

Storms rarely frightened him. Least in the past they didn't much. Now they terrified him, cause they reminded him of things he really wished not to remember. Now Storms reminded him of the River. Beforehand Thunder had been Thunder, lightening was lightening, and rain was rain. Now Thunder and the heavy rains was the sound of the raging rapids roaring in his ears, and lightening was the Sun glaring off the water as he tried to keep his head above it.

  
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to go back to sleep. He knew it wouldn't be worth it, to sneak into the room next to his only to get a measly two to three hour sleep and risk being caught if he overslept. But he couldn't shake the fear from his dream and opened them again, looking around the room, and made up his mind. He threw off the covers and padded barefoot to the door. He carefully opened it and looked up and down the empty hallway. The coast was clear.

If his heart hadn't already gone through it's rapid racing already, it woulda been flipping out in his chest as he grabbed the knob. He entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. The room was spread out, wider than his own bedroom, the wardrobe held better clothes and the bed was larger with plush pillows and soft blankets, but what he was more eager about is the occupant lying in the bed itself.

With a deep, shuddering sigh, he tiptoed across the room to the bed and peaked over. Jefferson was facing away from the door, towards the window. How anyone could sleep so heavy during this awful weather was beyond him, but if Jefferson stayed asleep until he left, he was better off. He waited, watching, and assured himself that Thomas was asleep. Once he assured himself, he crawled up on the bed and collapsed wearily into the empty space. He didn't bother with the blanket, to afraid to wake the beds current occupant up. Once settled close enough to feel the warmth of him, but not so close as to wake him, he curled up and closed his eyes.  
____

  
Contrary to popular belief Jefferson was not as deep a sleeper as people thought. And he also wasn't stupid to top it off. He did notice the light dips in the bed from someone coming and going. Always at a certain period of the night as well. And yet despite knowing all of this, he chose to let it keep happening. They weren't causing trouble and truth be told, Thomas hated not feeling the warm presence of a body next to him in the wee hours of the night after Madison would take his leave. To have that back seemed to give the older man a sense of comfort that was unexplainable.

It had been so long that he did not care if a child was the one laying next to him. No, not one bit. Through these few days when Philip would sneak in, Thomas dared not move an inch. Too afraid that he would scare off the little fella to the point where he would not come back, but something about tonight felt different. He didn’t know what came over him but he had this itch of a feeling to turn over. And for once, he listened to his brain and slowly turned over making sure that he did not wake the poor lad. He saw the way Philip would nod off during breakfast. No one thought he did, but he did.

Once he was settled down and made sure the boy was still asleep, he let out a soft breath and looked forward at Philip. He noticed the dark circles and bags under his eyes. It was sad that a boy his age would be going through this type of trauma. A part of Thomas actually wanted Philip to open up to him and tell him what had been keeping him up at night but another part just wanted to ignore him all together. Philip was not his child after all. But looking at him now just reminded him of his own kids, which all together made him want to take all the pain away.

 _‘He should have been able to have a normal childhood but this war has put a stop to that._ ’ Thomas thought ‘ _Maybe I should talk to him about it_. _Though if he wanted to talk then he would have come to me about it.’_ Thomas sighed not knowing what to do. Maybe if he slept on it more, then he may come to some sort of conclusion.

As Jefferson slowly closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, he failed to catch the low groan of the boy beside him as he rolled his head restlessly against the place where it lay. In his sleep His breath grew ragged as if he had plunged into wintry water. He tossed onto his other side, trying to curl tighter into himself. Ice climbed up his neck and slid around his brain. As it turned out, despite what he had led people to believe, Philips sudden change in sleeping arrangements never did stop his nightmares. It had calmed them yes, but sadly, that had just been only a brief respite. Even now curled up asleep, his dreams worsened more and more with every passing rest...

_________  
....The bed had disappeared. He wasn't in a room at all anymore. He was laying in a pit of mud, vomit, blood, bits of bodies…the detritus of war. He pushed himself to his feet with great effort, and reached up to wipe a trail of slime from his face with the back of his arm. As he stood there in the stench of the killing field, the sudden shock of remembrance crashed into his brain. "Dad!" he choked, whirling to scan the myriad bodies laid low in the dirt. His eyes fell on the bloodied bulk of a body, twisted and broken in the pits of carnage...._

_To Philip, father seemed strangely diminished in death. His cheeks had sunken in, framing his teeth in a grim mask. Blood was clotting on his brow and flies had already gathered to feed, buzzing and humming like a living mask on his father's face. But from that broken form came a whisper of breath not one that he could understand, but felt it all the same. He wanted to move, he wanted to move away from this....thing, cause he couldn't understand what it was saying but it frightened him._

_He lifted up a foot to step back, but it wouldn't budge. He tried to walk forward, he couldn't do that either._

_Trapped._

_Philip was trapped. His feet were trapped in the layers of gore that seemed to forcefully hold him in place, and he could not move. He lost his balance. He fell backwards, and his hands sunk into the gore and became trapped themselves. He struggled, but alas he could not move. Then came the roaring sound he knew all too well. He turned his head to the corpse, tears in his eyes falling down his cheeks._

_Why, he had tried to ask it, Why. What had he done wrong to deserve this._

_The corpse of his father said nothing. The rigor induced neck of it made a horrible cracking noise as it turned to stare at him. It's eyes sunken in, and from that broken forms mouth came another whisper of breath. "Why…"_

_Philip struggled to move, the roaring sound became louder and louder. Then it came. It started off slow, it soaked his feet up to his ankles at first then his hands up to his wrists. The bright Crimson of the river flowed and its levels rose higher and higher. And it was COLD._

_Wasn't blood supposed to be warm?_

_In his fear he couldn't breathe nor could he think clearly. His eyesight became fuzzy with tears as the water levels rose higher and higher, a increasingly faster rate then he was anticipating._

_It wasn't long before his head went under. Now He was soaked in it all over from his head to his toes. His hearing had become muffled. His chest hurt from straining for air. He needed air, oxygen. He needed to breathe. He was drowning. Like two magnets of opposite charges, he and the blood were forced together._

_His heart pounded with all the adrenaline pumping through his veins. A panicked, quick beat as it tries to distribute oxygen He no longer had._

_Oxygen- it's what his lungs ache for. They needed it so bad it felt like his chest would cave in any moment if they didn't get it. His body was working overtime searching for something that just wasn't there. Air wasn't in his grasp; He couldn't give it to himself no matter how hard his lungs begged for it._

_In, out, in, out, breathe, that was what instincts were chanting in his head, screaming at his lungs to breathe, his heart to pump, his mouth to open and allow air in. What it didn't know was that clean, heavenly air was not what awaited outside but rather dark, unforgiving water, just waiting to be invited in for a place to stay._

_His entire body was racking with shakes. Trembling from fear, shivering from the icy depths, and jerking with sobs. Tears won't fall, though, only blend in, unnoticed, with the murderous water surrounding him._

_Suddenly, he couldn't fight any longer, couldn't take the pressure anymore. His mouth flew open, gasping for air that would not come even though He knew what was coming. Filthy gore filled waters entered his mouth and nose. Despite efforts, He breathed in water, sputtering as it gushed down his throat, headed straight for his lungs. He wanted desperately to get out of the water, to escape, but He couldn't. A force much greater holds him in._

_He's trapped._

_But he suddenly doesn't care._

_Terror still strangled his breath and dimmed his sight. But as he had started to accept what was to come, his body relaxed, accepting more liquid as it forced its way passed his slightly parted lips down into the lungs who deprived of air, accepted it gladly as a replacement. And as his drooping eyes stared out at the murky waters, a bright flash of light sparked images and sounds across his mind._

_Mother's laugh._

_Father's calloused hands._

_His father's gentle smile of approval._

_His mother's soft embrace. Them holding hands, beaconing him to come an join them. Warm smiles on their faces. And as the gore allowed him to raise his hand, he reached for them._

_He felt his heart slow to a dull thud. Water burned in his lungs, his airways protesting the intrusion, and he gagged, choking even as he flailed for purchase in the water, trying to reach out and grab for his parents. The slower his heart got the more his parents blurry forms became clear. Just a little more. Just a little more. Oh god he was so close **so clo**_ -...  
_______

Something was shaking him.

  
His eyes opened wildly. The soft mattress yielded beneath his body violently as he shot up on his arms, and as he struggled to sit upright, he nearly backed up and fell off the bed. He put weight upon his right arm to stop himself from tumbling and it collapsed beneath him and he knocked his skull harshly against the headboard of the bed.

The boy inhaled deeply, sucking in a breath. The memory of the dream was still strobing in his brain in combination of the throbbing the knock against the headboard had given him, and his head pounded in rhythm with the hammering of his heartbeat and his lungs felt heavy. The shaking had done its job to wake him out of his dream. But he was still partially asleep as he pressed himself hard against the wood of the headboard.

In his daze, Philip failed to notice the person who had awaken him, staring worriedly from the opposite end of the bed. They had been awakened and in turn bewitched by the violent twitching’s and whimpering’s of the child while he went through the throws of his nightmare, having never witnessed someone having such a violent one before, especially one so small.

“Steady breaths, boy. Take your time.” Thomas spoke giving Philip a nod. He didn’t dare try to touch the lad, too scared that he might freak the poor boy out more. Philip opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden gasp of air that came caused only coughing to come out instead.  
  
What Philip didn't realize right away in that moment, was that because of his half asleep state, his body had not yet awoken fully from its dream or if it did, failed to realize it was safe to breathe. It still believed that despite everything it was seeing, it was still being drowned and was in survival mode trying to conserve whatever precious piece of air it got. The last breath he had inhaled deeply before had been the last one he took since being woken up and his body had already used that to its fullest.

As his brain slowly caught up with reality, so did his body, which forced him to drag in a desperate raggy breath to rid himself of the light-headed feeling he was starting to get from lack of air. He then promptly began to cough up his lungs while they and his windpipe strained to hold the sudden large gasps of air he was inhaling. As if afraid that they wouldn't get another. But as more breaths came, each one less violent than the other, Phillips body began to relax. He still panted deeply as he pressed his forehead against the headboard. His heart was still hammering, but there wasn't as hard a pressure in his head so he guessed that must have been slowing as well.

He didn't say anything for a bit, just laid against the headboard. All that came out of his mouth was a very hoarse apology, his throat sore from the coughing.

“Sorry for waking you.” He didn't look at Jefferson. Thomas did not say anything. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the tin pitcher and the stray glass, filling it up with water before handing it to Philip. The boy graciously took it, gulping down the liquid like he had not had anything to drink in a very long time. “Careful, don’t want to drink it all down too fast. You might choke.”

Pretty sure I've done enough of that tonight, Philip thought to himself solemnly. He sighed, holding the glass between his fingers, looking at the water as it sloshed around in the glass.

_Least it wasn't red._

A shiver coursed through his body at that thought, and he quickly handed the glass back to Jefferson. “Thank you.” His hands were shaking. Great . He tucked his hands to his sides, hoping Jefferson didn't notice. They sat in silence mostly. Philip didn't want to be the first one to speak but he had a feeling he was gonna have to, right now he was just staving off the inevitable.

“How long have you known?” Jefferson shrugged “For some time now,” he sighed shifting so him and Philip were looking at each other. There he got a better look at him, noticing his eyes that held fear and surprise. The way his body was hunched over almost like he was trying to crawl in himself to hide from what was frightening him so.

“A-are you mad at me?” “No, not necessarily. You weren’t doing anything wrong.” Philip sighed, pushing himself off the headboard. He sat up, pressing and holding his knees against his body, turning his head away from Jefferson and facing the door. Oh what he would not **give** to be able to curl into nothingness and hide. It was a mistake to come into this room when he did. Now because of his stupidity, Jefferson got a frontrow seat to what he suffered through _**every**_ night and got to see every _**detail**_ of it down to the wire and sweat. Or maybe in some weird way, Jefferson got a treat instead. Philip knew this dream was not normal, this dream was violent, not all the time did he die in them and not all the time did his parents seem happy in them. And definitely not all the time did he wake in such a fright that it took minutes for him to recover from it. He really hoped that this was a one time thing, and that they wouldn't get any more worse than that. He or his sanity for that matter couldn't possibly take worse.

Without looking at Jefferson, Philip spoke softly, his face on his knees, “What happened, what did you see.” He might as well have asked, now that Jefferson saw, now was indeed the perfect time to learn what his nightmares were like from a outside standpoint, to see what all the fuss was about. “Everything.” “Oh.” Philip gulped.“Is it as bad as the others say? They don't….tell me but...is it?” “That depends, do you want me to sugar coat this or the real truth?”

Philip huffed, “I think we're a bit passed sugar coating this, don't you think….” He turned his head towards Jefferson, but kept his face on his knees. The only thing visible was an eye, which looked at Jefferson with dull amusement, the dark circle underneath it visible in the white moonlight. Thomas smacked his teeth and sighed “Alright then,” he said sitting up more “They can get pretty bad. At least, from what I have seen.” He paused glancing at the boy making sure that he was ok before continuing “You…..yell and squirm in your sleep. Like you are trying to get away from someone or something. You also mumble your parent’s name as if you are calling out to them...how long have these gone on pip? Since the incident? Or some time later? Why haven’t you told me about this sooner?”

“You didn't need to know.”

The answer was blunt, but it was the only one he could give without revealing to much. Jefferson was never gonna let this go unnoticed now that he had seen it, Philip knew that, but that didn't mean he had to be honest with his answers either.

“Bullshit.” “What?” “You heard me, it’s utter bullshit. You need to stop holding back on me and just let it out.”

“How in the world is it bullshit.” At the curse, Philip recoiled slightly and bit his tongue. If his mother was here, she would have reprimanded him for his choice of words, but his mother wasn't here, it was fair game now. But he still felt the need to hold his tongue on certain things, like she was listening. Old habits never truly died hard he supposed.

But still, he felt the curse was necessary to get his point across. Him not talking about his dreams was not bullshit, what was bullshit was how easy Jefferson expected him to just come out and talk about them. Philip couldn't do it, he wouldn't do it. After all, how could he look this guy -or anyone for that matter- in the eye and blurt out right here and right now, that he had a dream no less than half an hour ago where he accepted his own demise and was happy about it. How could anyone tell anyone that they accepted their own death and that it brought them so much joy, it was borderline nauseating.

Speaking of nauseating….

Philip rose his head up from his knees with a sigh, lolling his head on his shoulder to look at Jefferson through sleep deprived eyes. He had a headache. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. He had a feeling neither of them did, but him especially, not because he didn't want to talk about it, that was only half of the reasoning. Admittedly it was because he was just too tired to argue about it. In the past forty-eight hours this week alone, he had been working on only five to eight hours worth of sleep. Now that this nights nightmare was over, he would once again go through the process of trying to keep himself awake yet again, fear of having more all the motivation for keeping himself awake.

Still, that didn't mean his body was taking to kindly to the new sleep cycling. The lack of sleep was definitely taking its toll on him. His head felt light, his body ached and as his stomach started doing flips, he closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing heavily through his nostrils, hoping the feeling would go away. He opened them again, the feeling didn't go away. He did however, spot Jefferson from the corner of his eye, staring at him with almost curious concern in his eyes.

“What?” God even his voice was starting to sound groggy. Jefferson let out a breath while fiddling with his fingers “Maybe we should talk about this in the morning when you aren’t so tired.”

Me not tired haha good luck with that. Philip only huffed in agreement. The room became very quiet, the lightheaded feeling gently thrumming on his temples. He rolled his head to the other side and looked at the door. He didn't need a clock to tell him Madison would be returning soon, he could feel it. He sighed, then swung his legs and hopped off the bed.

“Phillip,” Jefferson sighed rubbing his temple “Where are you going? We’re not done here.”

Philips hand was already on the doorknob when he replied back. “Madison will be back soon, unless you want him asking questions neither of us wish to answer….” But as he went to turn the knob, he found himself unable to. Any time he went to turn it, at the last moment he would hesitate and his hand would tense, jerking back every time he tried to touch the handle. Something in him wouldn't allow him to leave.

“Unless….” “Yes?”

He sighed, his hand clenched, he gave up on grabbing the handle.

“ _Unless I could stay_ …” It wasn't a question more so as a plea. He turned his head to Jefferson, and all at once the entire demeanor of the boy had changed in a snap instant, as if the questioning plea had finally done what the nightmares had been desperately trying to do.

 _ **Break**_ something in him.

No longer did he hold his head high in that “Hamilton Confidence”. No longer did his eyes, despite their tiredness, shine with defiance. Instead His shoulders hunched, his head hung low, the shine in his eyes fading into the dull look of someone who was tired for all the wrong reasons. As he waited for the answer, He seemed to practically curl into himself, as if preparing for whatever response he would receive.

Luckily for him, Thomas did not know what to say for the most part. He had never in his life seen anyone look so defeated and desperate for someone to just comfort them and hold their hand through whatever that person was going through. This was some new territory that was obscure and strange, that sent shivers up his arms, that almost scared him. And that said something for a guy who was going through an actual war. It was stupid to him that he was so nervous to help this poor lad and at least try to understand what was going on.

But everytime he tried there would be a little piece of him that would hold him back telling him to not get ‘too close’. It angered him that he had this internal battle in himself every time he saw or spent time with Phillip. Whether that be during their many times of small talk or when Phillip would sneak in his room in the late hours of the night.

“Do…..you _want_ to stay?” he asked stupidly. Of course the boy wanted to stay. It’s clear as day on his face and body. Thomas was never great at interpreting someone’s feelings and or emotions.

There was a tired sigh.

It was clear by the look on his face that Philip was indeed having regrets about asking his question and was still considering just leaving Jefferson be. To go into his own room and try drifting back into his fitful sleep and cease bothering him for the night. But the warm looking bed was too much of a comfort to pass up on. And when Jefferson’s reply didn't start with anything sounding like an no or refusal, all to suddenly, Philip did not wish to be alone and without question, the small boy hauled himself around away from the door and meanderly slumped his way across back to the bed. At his own slow pace now. He wasn't worried about Madison anymore.

Jefferson didn’t take his eyes off of Phillip as the boy moved his way back to the bed. He even pushed the comforter back so it would be easier for him to climb in. “Just...get some rest. Don’t worry about Madison, I’ll deal with him.”

Philip said nothing. He threw one last cautious look at the door, before wearily climbing once again back into the empty space that Jefferson had made for him. He stared at Jefferson for a long while, half expecting him to change his mind at the last minute and tell him to leave. But when the order didn't come, he pulled back the blanket a bit more and settled himself beneath it.

He burrowed further into the blanket, pulling his knees toward his chest and sinking his cheek into the softness of the pillow. The weight of the blanket was delicious, comforting, dare he even say safe. But as he relaxed and closed his eyes to try and sleep, he felt the bed shift a little. His heart hammered a bit, before he opened his eyes.

No...no, Jefferson didn't leave, he had just settled down himself. Almost instinctively, Philip curled himself up closely towards Jefferson, burying his nose in the spot between his arm and shoulder as Jefferson got comfortable and pulled his arm out to lay it above Philip’s head.

_ _ _  
By the time the sun had begun to rise in the sky, the rains had finally stopped. Bright light from the rising sun shown through the windows of the down stairs of the house.

Theodosia was first to awaken. She awoke groggily, painfully aware of the shaft of light that was spilling through a small gap in the curtains and on to her pillow and in her eyes. She squinted against the brightness, raising a hand up to block her eyes. She rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her chin, determined that for once she was going to have a lie-in. After failing miserably to drift off to sleep again however, she sighed defeatedly. She wasn't usually a morning person, but after sleeping a majority of the night, she was generally wide awake. The feeling of being well rested was welcomed, especially now that she was curled up against her husband. His body warm against hers as he held her tightly against him.

She turned her head again to see the morning sun was halfway over the horizon and decided that, despite while it sounded like a generally good idea, sleep probably wasn't going to bless her once again with its presence, not to mention her hands had an sudden itch to do something. But as it turned out, the real challenge was getting up more so then waking up.

She tried to sit up, but whenever she did, Aaron would tightened his grip around her. After a moment or so however, she successfully managed to sit up and leaned down, pressing her lips to his forehead smiling as her husband's body relaxed. She then quietly got up, making sure not to wake Aaron, tended to her looks, then silently snuck away out of the room.

  
As she made her way towards the kitchen to make herself some good morning tea, the scratching of a quill against paper was the first sound to greet her when she passed by the small study that lay just before the kitchen. The sound itself wasn't to unfamiliar, she was often greeted by it every morning, but what surprised her was the fact that, by this time, the writer would have been retired to bed by now, like clockwork almost. But yet as she turned the corner, there he was. She could just barely see him sitting at the desk through the partially closed door, just writing away and she couldn't help but creep toward the doorway and open the door quietly and just stare.

There was something....almost _mesmerizing_....about watching Madison write. Just watching as the ink seemed to spill from the quill onto the parchment, the careful loops and swirls of Madison's handwriting gleaming wetly in the sunlight gleaming from the one window behind him, his brows furrowed in concentration. She thought it intriguing, for a man who never seemed to talk much, at least to most people, he did a lot of writing it would seem, as if the words from his mouth went to his hands instead.

When she grew tired of watching him, she knocked on the door frame lightly, startling him out of his thoughts and she kind of winced in sympathy, she hadn't meant to do that.

“Good morning Mr Madison, do forgive me for startling you, what are you doing up still, did you forget to sleep?” The man jumped up in surprise from the voice and looked over his shoulder “Oh, It is just you. Good morning, Mrs.Burr” he said before turning back around ignoring her question. Theodosia rose an eyebrow at his brisk yet brief greeting and complete disregard for her question. So she tried again,

“Mr Madison, do you not know what time it is?” “Like four in the morning or something like that” he mumbled, continuing to scribble down something. At his surprising response, Theodosia put a hand to her mouth to stifle a round of soft giggling that started up almost out of nowhere. She knew Madison liked to work, but to work to the point he was completely oblivious of the time was a new one that she couldn't help but find just a little funny. “Mr Madison, it's not four” She said through her giggles “It's nearly nine o'clock, it's a little shy of eight-thirty.”

James shot up his head and turned towards Theodosia where she got a better look at the man. Up until then, Theodosia had desperately been trying to hold her giggling back, but when Madison looked at her, his eyes wide, reminding her of a child who had just realized he had overslept for school, or in this case never slept at all, she lost the battle and a string of giggling exited her one after the other. “Y..y..you didn't realize d..d..did you” “I-I,” He started but shut his mouth abruptly, “My apologies, I did not realize how late I stayed up.” James said standing up rather quickly and started to stack his papers up. Theodosia made a grab for his arm as he tried to make his way past her, but instead managed to grasp a bit of his sleeve instead.

“Oh do not worry about it, stay. Why don't I make us some tea instead, it quite with it being just the two of us awake anyways. Perfect time for a peaceful mid-morning tea, don't you think?” Madison thought for a moment before giving in and walking back in the room. He made it this far right? Might as well continue through the day.

After Madison placed his work back down on the writing desk, Theodosia led him into the kitchen and started up a tea kettle while Madison took a seat. As the water started to boil, she couldn't help but throw glances now and again at the doorway, like she was waiting for something or someone for that matter.

“You know, I must admit…” She said pouring the tea “I'm surprised Jefferson is not down yet, normally _he_ is the one who joins me in the morning for some tea, but he appears to not be here. Is it normal for him to sleep in so late?” She said passing a cup over to Madison. “Not really, no. Then again by the time he gets up i’m usually asleep so.” James shrugged taking a sip of his tea.

“True I guess…” Theodosia looked off to the side deep in thought, both her hands wrapped around her tea glass. “It doesn't matter anyways, a decent sleep is good enough for anyone these days, under the circumstances. Take my Aaron for example. He's normally awake before even me, But now even he's still asleep.” She said taking a sip of her tea.

“Speaking of sleep….”

Theodosia placed her glass on the table and folded her hands, her voice catching on a curious, yet almost serious tone, her head tilting down. “I'm worried about that boy, Philip. I do know you don't tend to sleep at night much but, surely you hear him at times? I can't imagine anyone in this house who doesn't at this rate.” James nodded and looked down at his drink “Yes I hear it too. It is very sad what he has been through. I can’t help but think of all the traumatic memories he has to deal with on a daily basis. How horrid and overwhelming that whole experience must have been. Especially for a boy his age.”

“I hope you don't find this _rude_ of me to say, but I'm surprised to hear you say that, Madison. Last I checked you didn't care much for the Hamiltons, especially Alexander. You or Jefferson. And yet I've been watching Jefferson allowing Philip to follow him around like a lost puppy for the past couple of weeks or so?” Madison smiled “Yes it did seem like I didn’t care for Hamilton but what happened to him and his wife was…..unfortunate. Losing people is hard and at the end of the day, Phillip is just too young to witness his parent’s demise like that. Doesn’t matter who you are in my book.”

“But that is _you_ Madison. You never spoke of your grievances against Alexander even when he was alive. What about Jefferson. Aaron told me of the fights those two use to have. For how much it sounded like he hated him, I refuse to believe Jefferson never rejoiced about the death of Alexander.”

This had Madison shaking his head “That is simply not true. They may have had their fights, yes, but that doesn’t mean that Jefferson would celebrate the death of someone. It’s rather insulting really.”

“Is it really _that_ insulting, you especially out of everyone should know how much of an arrogant _fool_ Jefferson could be at times. Is it really that hard to believe that he wouldn't in some form of way rejoice at the prospect of not having to deal with Alexander anymore. And even if by _some_ grace of god he didn't celebrate Alexander's death, that still doesn't answer why he acts so coldly towards the boy, whose only fault is being _Alexander's_ Son.”

“Thomas has a peculiar way of letting people in. It may seem as though he is being mean, acting the way he does with him. But that is only because his trust is very scarce these days and he is testing to see if the boy is good enough. I think that Phillip is that little extra something Thomas needed in his life. Everything that has happened in these few years have changed something inside of him and I believe Phillip is bringing back the old him and he is afraid. However, I think the boy is just what he needed.”

“Whatever the case may be,” Theodosia said, shaking her head “I really hope Jefferson does not hurt that Boy, he's been through enough and I think the last thing he needs is someone he's actually coming to trust, hurting him. I think that would kill him.” She sighed, turning her head towards the tea kettle. “As do I.”

“Well….I should go fetch the ol devil...he's late for tea and we could only drink so much.” Scooting her chair back, she pushed away from the table and stood. “I'll be back in a moment.” Theodosia made her way out of the kitchen, passed the hallway and up the grand staircase that led to the upstairs bedrooms. She walked a bit down the short corridor and stopped at Jefferson's room. She knew it was his cause his, surprise surprise, had a very fancy doorknob.

_A knob for a knob hehe_

Theodosia shook her head. And gave a knock on the door. She waited and when there was no answer, she gave another knock. When there was once again no answer, she guessed there wouldn't be to much of a issue if she just let herself in. She just hoped Jefferson was not a grouch when he was woken up. She put her hand to the doorknob, her hands reflection shining glimmerly against its clear surface and gave the knob a turn, pushed the door open. She peaked inside. She gave a look around before her eyes fell on the bed.

Strange….who was….that with….

“Oh _my_ ….”

Very quietly but swiftly, she backed up from the room and nearly collided with the corridor wall. She went back towards the stairs and went down them halfway. She could just barely see the kitchen from where she stood.

“ _Madison_ …” She called in a hushed voice, “… _.Madison! Madison, come over here, you have to come see this_ , _come on_.” She said beckoning him with a franic “come here” motion of her hand. James looked at her confused before getting up and following behind Theodosia. When they made it to the top of the stairs, Theodosia suddenly grabbed at his arm and tugged him hurriedly to the half-open bedroom door. She put a finger to her lips to signal him to be quiet and motioned him to come inside the room with her. As he walked in, she followed closely behind.

Theodosia pointed to the middle of the bed, _“Please tell me I'm not the only one seeing what I'm seeing._ ”

Madison turned and looked. Curled up on the bed in the blanket, sleeping soundly, Philip lay snuggled up to none other than Jefferson, curled up into a little ball with his head pressing just above Jefferson's pec, while Jefferson lay on his side. One arm lay above Philip's head, while the other, which Theo would never forget about as long as she lived, was protectively curled around the sleeping child. A tiny river of drool starting to make its way from the corner of Jefferson's mouth. He was lightly snoring.

“ _Holy **shit**_.” Madison whispered. He was actually surprised this was actually happening. “ _Did you know they did that?!_ ” She asked hurriedly and hushed afraid of waking the two and being caught. ”No, not at all.This is all new to me.’ he said flabbergasted. Never in his life would he ever believe that the guy he knew for years would be cuddling with a child, let alone _Hamilton’s_ child.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Theodosia took a step forward to get a better look. As she placed her foot down, She unintentionally stepped on a squeaky part of the floor. The floorboard beneath her foot whined in protest of the sudden weight change, while the reaction from the bed made her gasp. Whether it be intentional or in his dreams she did not know, but the moment the board let out its squeaking whine, Theodosia watched in shock, as the arm Jefferson had curled up around the boys side, wrapped up tightly around Philip, almost protectively drawing the boy in close to him, as Philip curled up closer toward him and Jefferson laid his head on top of his.

When they both finally laid still again, Theo turned and looked at Madison with wide eyes, mouth agape. James stared back at her with a similar expression. Theodosia looked back over at the bed. The room was silent.

_Well this was going to be most interesting._

________

If it wasn't for the whole fact he needed to pee like crazy, Jefferson probably would have slept the whole day away. But In the end that wasn't what happened. He woke nearly five hours after the two spies he didn't even know were there had finally snapped out of their daze and scattered away. He left the boy still asleep and made his way down stairs for a cup of tea.

When he entered the kitchen, Theodosia and Madison were sitting at the table chatting about the weather or some bullshit of the sort he was still too groggy to care about. As he poured himself some tea, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. When he turned around, Theo and Mads had their eyes on him, staring at him. It was starting to make him very uncomfortable.

“What?”

“Oh nothing….” Theodosia said, taking a sip of her tea whilst smirking against the cup. Madison said nothing and while Jefferson shook his head and left the kitchen, Theodosia and Madison sat back in their chairs grinning like Cheshire cats. They had both agreed that, for the sake of everyone's sanity and Jefferson and Philip's privacy, they would not speak of what they had encountered in that bedroom mere hours before.

But as Madison smiled and finished his tea, he realized Theodosia had been right.

_Things were definitely going to get much more interesting_

**Author's Note:**

> For those wondering what Theo ment by "A knob for a knob"  
> A "Knob" is a vulgar slang for a penis. She essentially called Jefferson a dick


End file.
